


Loving the Monster

by Aussi18



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 04:14:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16360583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aussi18/pseuds/Aussi18
Summary: A rework of the scene at the diner where Marian returns and, broken-hearted, Regina walks off into the night. In this scenario, Robin goes after her (as he should have) and shows her how much he loves her... on the hood of the Mercedes...





	Loving the Monster

 

 

 

_Monster_ , Marian accuses. Identifies.

_Evil._

Regina's entire world, save Henry, has once again been torn apart by Emma-can’t-mind-her-own-fucking-business-Swan.

And that's just lovely, isn't it?

She feels nauseous, a hot prickle of panic and loss creeping up her spine as the furious eyes of Marian burn into her.

It annoys her, gets her hackles up - Regina is already well aware that she is, indeed, said Monster. Even if she weren’t being constantly reminded of it by the Charming cheerleading squad, she is acutely aware that the darkness is always there, simmering right below the surface, waiting for an opportunity for her temper to flare and allow the magic to release from her in a wave of destruction. It almost escapes tonight - as Marian looks at her with hatred and jealousy as she exclaims betrayal and injustice to the group of them - Regina’s hand rises on its own, a reflex, ready to take action. But it is the movement of the other woman pulling little Roland away, shoving him behind her, that stills Regina’s ire. She loves Roland, just as she loves Henry, and here is yet another woman coming back from the past to take away the things she loves most in this world. All she can think, can feel, is that another son is being ripped from her.

The feeling is _devastating_.

Her gaze flickers from Roland to Henry, her hand stills, and she pushes the magic down, down, as Robin stupidly attempts to reason with his wife.

She is suddenly done with this.

She knows that there is nothing she can say for herself, nothing she can do to make his dead wife realize that she has changed.

She will not, _cannot_ defend the sins of her past, and she cannot stand here and watch the disappointment and fear enter her children’s eyes.

So Regina turns and walks away from the diner with her spine straight, her head ducked a little in defense. Someone calls after her, but it is not the _right_ someone, and she doesn’t slow, doesn’t bother to turn her head. She can hear Marian’s hysterics escalating behind her as she accuses them all of being under some spell, as she starts listing off the ways in which _that Monster_ has ruined so many lives. She hears her Roland _\- not hers, not anymore -_ start to cry.

She should poof home, it would be faster. It would get her away from this mess in a much more convenient way, would take her away from her broken future. But she is suddenly loathe to use magic in front of these people, in front of _her_. Regina's car is parked in an alley just two blocks away, so instead she takes off with long strides, her eyes and throat burning in humiliation, telling herself that the cold night air will soothe her.

Her breaths are too quick for the pace she has set - she knows that it is panic, loss, grief trying to escape, and she cannot stop the snide remarks of the voice inside her head.

_You are not a hero._

_You do not get a happy ending._

_You are a stupid, silly girl to have hoped for even a second._

_Love is weakness._

She rounds the corner to the alley between The Rabbit Hole and another brick building, her car now in sight - just a few more steps and then she can release this pain that is tightening her chest, pushing the breath out of her and stopping her from taking in another.

She pulls her keys from her pocket, hands shaking, shaking, but she’s almost to safety and it is through sheer will that she finally slots the key into the door lock.

Suddenly there is the sound of footsteps, a quick, unwelcome staccato of noise in the otherwise quiet night that makes her body jerk as if she were being physically struck by each beat. The panic sets in further, her eyes filling, blurring with hot, unshed tears. She doesn’t know who it is but she needs space _\- why can't they just give her some fucking space?-_ to get herself together.

If Emma Swan is coming after her, by god, she will not be responsible for her actions.

Her hand grasps desperately for the latch, trying to wrench the door open so she can make her escape, but then she hears him, breathing heavily, his voice thick as he calls out, “Regina, wait!”

Her traitorous body stills at his voice, her eyes closing as an awful, painful noise makes its way up and out of her chest. She is mortified, completely crushed as she chokes out, “Go back to your wife, Thief,” but he is still coming, still running toward her. Of all the pain Regina has been through in her life, _this_ , she thinks, this is the worst. It is how she felt when her Daniel was taken from her, when her Henry chose Emma over her, and now it is how she feels as her Robin is taken too.

He is to her now, skidding to a stop behind her as she puts her closed fists on the roof of her car and leans forward pathetically, her forehead cushioned against them, her shoulders curled and hunched forward in defense. Her dark hair slips from behind her ears and swings forward to hide her face.

“No, no, darling,” he says gently, coming up tight behind her and she jerks away - _walls up! walls up! -_ when his hands try to land on her waist. So he settles instead with bracing them on the car to either side of her, trapping her in.

Her body is vibrating with the raging emotions tearing through her. She starts shaking her head, she needs to go, needs to get away, but then he’s whispering to her and somehow she hears his voice through her inner turmoil.

“Regina, please,” he starts, and she hates - _loves -_ the sound of her name on his lips - it hurts, makes her think of the way he whispered it against her lips this morning as he kissed her over breakfast at Granny's, kissed her a little too deeply to be considered appropriate for a public place.

She musters her courage. “I understand.” she says quietly, not lifting her head, feeling his warm, quick breaths against the back of her neck, the hot tears starting to slide down her cheeks. “Robin, she's your wife,” she starts, her voice breaking in the middle, ending on a whisper full of self-loathing, “and I am the monster who murdered her.”

“No!” he says, and the volume and vigor with which he says it startles her, her back connecting with his chest as her body jumps in surprise. He takes advantage of it and wraps his arms around her middle.

“You are the love of my life, Regina,” he says with conviction. “The past is past. _You_ are my future.”

She desperately tamps down the spark of hope that tries to light within her at his words. She shakes her head again and says quietly, “No. You know it’s not that simple. She's the mother of your child.”

He lets out a frustrated sound that is more of a growl than anything, and then he is grasping her hips and turning her sharply, bringing her around to face him. She protests, tries to fight the movement, her hands bracing hard against his chest - she does not want to look at his beautiful blue eyes, his deep dimples and sweet smile as her life falls apart.

“Goddamnit, Regina,” he says, looking heatedly into her eyes, “Yes, Marian was my wife, was Roland's mum. But Roland and I have spent so much time grieving the loss of her, picking up the pieces and finally finding happiness again. It is not the same as it once was. And though it may not be fair to her, it is not she who has ownership of my heart, nor Roland's.”

Against her will, Regina’s own heart stutters in her chest, a wave of hope smoothing over the crippling ache that had settled there. She stays quiet, doesn’t dare to want, and brings those dark mocha eyes up to his to search for answers.

He breathes out a little sigh of relief when her eyes meet his, and a small smile touches the corners of his eyes. “There she is,” he whispers more to himself than her, then follows with, “I’m telling you that I - Roland and I - love you, Regina,” he says, fingers running across her brow to tuck her dark hair behind her ear, and her breath stops short. “Marian’s return does not change that.”

Her stomach drops out, heart hammering hard as the words wash over her. He dips down a little to her eye level, pulling her eyes back up to his as he says, “Darling, I’m saying, I’m telling you that I’m _in love_ with you,” and he suddenly sounds a little nervous, a little panicked.

Belatedly, she realizes that she hasn’t responded at all. Has gone stone still in his arms as the war of emotions shocks her.

He _loves_ her.

_-Love-is-weakness-Love-is-weakness-Love-is-weakness-_

He is _in love_ with her.

_-weakness-weakness-weakness-_

He’s in love with _her_.

_-stupid, silly girl-_

She swallows thickly and studies his face as she softens in his grip. Her eyes are dry now but she is still shaking, her nerves failing to find the calm in the storm. It's all too much at once. She needs time to process, needs to step back and really think about what's happening right now. She should tell him to go, tell him she needs time to figure it all out, should tell him he's not thinking clearly and there are things, _important_ things that he is not considering.

He shouldn't, should  not  love her, it is dangerous and her heart is so ruined, and _oh god_ they are all going to get so hurt from this.

It has been nearly fifty years since a true, honest man told her he was in love with her, and she balks at the sentiment, at the significance of this moment. She wants to tell him she loves him too, tell him how much he means to her, how much he has changed her for the better, but the words stick in her throat, out of practice, unused for far too long and associated with tragedy instead of happiness. So she gives him what she can - she smiles just a little, smooths her hands across his chest, his shoulders, stops fighting his embrace. She looks up into his eyes, his kind, sweet eyes that are burning with determination, looking right through her shields to her very black heart.

“Show me,” she rasps, her voice low and hoarse with emotion.

He surges into her, his hands diving into her hair and pulling her to him as he pushes forward, her back coming up flush against the side of her car as his lips land hotly on hers.

She moans immediately, opening her mouth and sliding her tongue deep into his, suddenly overcome with desperate need for him.

He receives her tongue, duels it with his own, their kisses wet and intense as their mouths meet again and again. His lips pull at hers, nipping softly, his tongue thrusting and swiping seductively along the sensitive roof of her mouth.

Her head drops back and he rips his mouth from hers, immediately dropping to the column of her throat and sucking - and he’s not gentle, he’s as worked up as she is, his lips pulling and marking her perfect skin as his hands grasp hard at her waist and jerk her hips suggestively against his. He pulls her red scarf off, giving him access to a little more of her neck - _damn this high cut neckline_ \- and she’s starting to pant as pleasure and want spreads first to her rapidly tightening nipples and then down, down.

His hands come up to cup her breasts, squeezing, kneading, his palms rubbing over her erect nipples through the knit dress and thin bra that she admits is more decorative than functional. He groans into her neck, his hips thrusting against hers as he feels her up and she can feel his cock, already hard and straining through his jeans. She reaches down, cupping him, rubbing her hand up and down the bulge, squeezing softly, and he presses his forehead to hers, sharing her breath before he dives in and captures her mouth again.

He massages her breasts while he kisses and licks his way across her jaw to her ear, dragging his teeth over the shell of it and panting hotly against her. “You’re perfect, darling, I could never let you go,” he whispers, and she shivers against him. “Need to show you - will you let me show you?”

She nods, obviously not thinking clearly as she murmurs, “Yes, anything.”

He slides her sideways toward the front of the car and shucks his jacket off, throwing it on the hood. He rucks up the hem of her dress, groaning with desire when he encounters the garter belt holding up her thick black stockings, paired perfectly with a rather tiny black lace thong, which he grabs roughly, tears one side and quickly pulls off her. He grabs her by the hips and lifts her, setting her on the hood, her naked skin protected from the cold metal by his well placed jacket.

And then he’s slipping between her legs, spreading her thighs wide, his thumbs trailing across the edges of her outer lips, framing her, stroking the sensitive skin. He gazes longingly at her sex and says “Fuck,” then looks her in the eyes. “I love you, Regina,” he tells her, and then he dips down and his hot mouth lands directly on her wet, swollen folds.

She sucks in a deep, gasping breath and her back arches sharply, and then he’s got his hand on her stomach, urging her, pressing her back, back, until she’s laying across the hood of her sleek black Mercedes, his head deep between her thighs as his hands press down on her hip bones and he licks and laps and sucks at her hot, slick sex.

Her body is on fire for him. She’s emotionally exhausted, can’t speak or make thoughts more coherent than his name, pleas for him to _don’t stop - don’t stop!_ and she feels her body creating more and more lubrication for him, wanting him inside of her, his velvet tongue and perfect mouth working her up and up and up. There is intense heat flooding her lower lips, swelling her moist, pink folds, and she can feel her pulse throbbing hard and urgent in her needy clit. His tongue laps at her, long, thorough strokes at first, like he’s feeding on her desire, his tongue wide and flat and firm against her. He puts his whole mouth on her, laving through her petals and sucking them gently into his mouth, moaning against her as his fingers flex and massage her hips, which are trying desperately to thrust up against his talented mouth.

She runs one hand through his hair, fingernails lightly scratching his scalp, feeling so alive and warm and like she’s _his_ and he is _hers_. She runs her other hand up her flat stomach, reaches her breasts and stops to pinch and pull at her own nipples, peaking them further and sparking pleasure there that travels all the way down where his tongue is flicking and sucking and rubbing at her clit. He groans as he watches her, his suckling mouth disconnecting from her with a wet  <smack> as his head pulls up to watch her touch herself.

“Fuckyou’resohot,” he says in a rush, enraptured by her. She knows how he feels about her body, knows she can get him ridiculously turned on by the simplest gesture, so she gives him a little show, running her hands up and into her hair then back down, arching her back and squeezing her breasts firmly, her thumbs running over and circling her hard peaks.

“God babe, love your perfect tits - can’t wait to have them in my mouth,” he pants, and then he drops back down to her clit, suckling and stroking her thoroughly now, no longer teasing but pursuing her pleasure with a mission, wanting to get her up to that edge and help her tip over it. Her slick sex is seeping with desire, she loves the way he touches her, the way he devotes his entire focus on bringing her pleasure. She’s moaning wantonly and taking quick shuddering breaths as he works her and pulls her passion from deep inside her. One of his hands slides down and rubs lovingly across her lower belly, his short blunt nails tracing patterns across the sensitive skin, across her mound, and then travels further down until two of his thick calloused fingers smooth through her creamy juices and then slide up into her to start a slow, deep rhythm.

She keens, a loud, needy sound escaping from her throat as his fingers hit that ultrasensitive spot inside of her. “There?” he asks, and she nods frantically, gasping _uh-huh_ and his clever fingers hit that spot again, angling just right and starting to pump so that every thrust hits it and drives the white hot pleasure up-up-up.

She knows she should stop this - knows that it is not appropriate for the Mayor to be spread eagle on the hood of her car, touching herself and getting eaten out and finger fucked in a public street not two blocks from where half the city population is currently gathered - but she doesn’t care, doesn’t stop. She loves what he’s doing and she’s getting close, thighs trembling, she’s going to come against his mouth with his fingers shoved deep inside of her, and she wants it, wants it _so much_.

His lips and tongue work her clit, stroking and sucking it, stimulating her at double the tempo of his fingers, and she’s arching up and swiveling her hips like an absolute wanton slut but she can’t stop, can’t help it. He’s working hard to prove his desire for her, to show her how much he wants her, and he’s doing such a good job she wants to give up her forlorn thoughts and doubts, just give in, stop fighting against it and let him make her feel good.

His fingers pick up speed, faster, faster, pumping into her in quick, punctuated shallow thrusts, hitting her pleasure center repeatedly, and she feels herself clenching, the obscene wet sounds he’s creating making her flush and squirm with more heat, making her moan out and beg him for more.

“You’re so wet,” he groans, “So tight - wish my cock was in you,” his hand giving her more, giving her what she asks, his palm tipping forward and smacking repeatedly against her clit as his digits penetrate her. She’s moaning constantly now, every breath eliciting another desperate sound of pleasure from her lips and she’s not being quiet, doesn’t care if anyone overhears her. “Want to fill you with my come,” he grunts and she moans loudly in response, as he continues, “Want to fill you up, want my come running down your thighs so everyone knows we belong to each other.”

And fuck - that image, fuck - suddenly she’s coming  _\- oh god! -_ palms slapping down flat against the hood of her car as her clit throbs **so** **hard** and has her groaning out, clenching her teeth, back arching and neck straining as her inner walls follow suit and clench and flutter around him, spasming around his fingers as he continues to thrust them _\- faster faster -_ hot fluid desire rushing out of her, drenching his fingers and dripping down onto his coat beneath her. Her nipples are hard and hot and rub against her bra, increasing her high, and his breath is against her inner thigh as he pushes and pushes her orgasm, encouraging her, “That’s it love - oh fuck - keep coming - I’ve got you,” until she finally crosses that over-sensitive threshold and starts to come down, starts to settle against the hood, gasping for air as the stars in her vision clear.

He pulls back from her suddenly, hands going to his belt, and he gasps out “Fuck, fuck, Regina” as he pulls his thick cock from his pants. He pumps once, twice, and then he’s coming too, painting her bare stomach with hot jets of white, aiming it down at her sex and spurting his come on her slick folds as he gives himself quick shallow strokes and groans loud into the cold evening air. He leans forward over her, his semi-hard dick in hand, and he trails the head of it through his come on her belly, swirls it around and thoroughly coats himself, then he trails it down across her swollen lips and dips the semen coated head of his cock into her tight opening, depositing his come inside her.

She _Oooooo’s_ as he does it, his words coming back to her and creating little orgasm aftershocks, the thought of wearing his come on her - in her - firing another lick of hot desire through her, encouraging a place deep in her black heart that suddenly calls him _Mine!_ He groans in pleasure and leans forward further, kissing her, threading his fingers into her ebony hair and wrapping his hand gently around the back of her head so he can kiss her deeply.

They spend a few minutes that way, kissing sweetly, full of emotion, but the cold seeps in quickly, so they reluctantly part, clean up what they can and straighten their clothes. Then he’s hugging her, holding her tight against him, kissing her temple, rubbing the nape of her neck soothingly and telling her he loves her and he will never let her go - that she is his True Love and he is hers.

She is utterly moved by the change of her fate, the rollercoaster of despair-turned-happiness has worn her out, the intense pleasure he has brought her relaxing her, making her feel sated and sleepy and loved. She drops her guard, leans into him, kisses him and catches his eye as she tells him sincerely that she loves him too.

____________________________________________________________________________

  
  
Later that evening when some of the madness has been sorted, Robin and Roland join Regina and Henry for movie night at the mansion. She and Robin cuddle up together on the couch while the boys eat enormous amounts of popcorn before nodding off to the cartoon they selected. She looks at the man next to her, the one who loves her as she is, who accepts her past and wants her future, and she thinks that maybe she can live with being a monster, as long as she is _his_ monster.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers:  
> Not mine - if they were, they would do this stuff all the time.  
> As an avid fanfic reader, please understand that any similarities to other works are pure coincidence and absolutely not intended.  
> I don't have a beta, so if you're interested, let me know.


End file.
